


Never Want Once

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Wolf Stiles, dominant lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told you to tell me if anything felt wrong,” Scott growled, nosing his way toward Stiles’ throat. Stiles rubbed his face alongside Scott’s, sharing scent in the way that he’d seen Scott and Isaac do occasionally, the way he’d watched Scott rub himself all over Lydia in their shared bed.</p><p>“It’s not wrong,” Stiles started, “just… different. Feels different. Everything feels so different.”</p><p>“Everything?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Want Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElanneH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElanneH/gifts).



> A million years ago, [Zuzana](http://maliaskittles.tumblr.com) asked me for: 
> 
> McMartinski, Stiles is turned into werewolf, his first full moon is coming and he's scared to hurt anyone, so Scott&Lydia take him away to Lydia's parents lakehouse. (I see a little bit angst in there and smut/or just sexy times are always welcome...)
> 
> Two minor additional notations: In this fic, Stiles was previously Scott's emissary, and Lydia is Fae (and still a banshee). 
> 
> Title is from Hozier's ["Work Song."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3g0d6Cgqyg) I hope you enjoy it darling!

The bite hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected.

Okay, so it hurt. Like a bitch, actually. He’d almost cried, even. But then, the knife to the gut had hurt more, and the shock had sort of numbed his system so much that the bite was just more dim agony. He vaguely remembered having held tight to Scott as his Alpha licked the wound, right above his collarbone. He remembered Kira, Malia, Cora, and Derek circling the three of them protectively as he tried to channel his emissary magic, to push his will through his body and out of his fingertips like he had before.  

He remembered Lydia standing nearby, crying, holding out the bloody dagger with shaking hands. Remembered her scream.

And then he remembered power, a wave of power rushing through his limbs and over his organs, healing up the hole in his belly and the bite on his neck. He remembered a feeling of ownership, of comfort and belonging and _pack_ , in a way he’d never felt it before.

That was gone now. Mostly all that was left was rage.

The power was still there, of course, simmering under his skin. He was so angry though, so angry that he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. So angry because he couldn’t bear to be sad, to be scared, to feel guilt.

He’d blacked out, sort of, he thought. The look in Scott’s eyes when he’d come back to himself said whatever the strewn, devastated bodies of four mildly competent warlocks could not have. Derek’s face was grim, and Malia looked sad and comforting in equal parts, but Scott - even now, True Alpha Scott had never killed, never taken a life, and definitely never with the savagery that Stiles had displayed.

“It’s okay,” Lydia had said, holding his face to her shoulder while she calmed him down. “You’re okay. You just need to breathe, Stiles. You just need to breathe for me.”

He had tried. And then he had run.

 

 

“Scott, you have to make a decision.” Lydia touched up her lipgloss with exacting precision. “We’re running out of time.”

“I know,” Scott answered, letting his head fall back against their lockers. “There’s not much I can do about him avoiding us, though. It’s… I mean, as much as it hurts, it _is_ his decision, you know?”

“It’s his decision, until he hurts someone. And then it’s some hunter’s decision, and that can’t-” Lydia took a deep breath. “That can’t happen. So you need to do something about this.”

“Like what? I can’t force him to talk to us…”

“No. But you can force him to spend time with us. You know Stiles-”

“Yeah, yeah. The talking will probably happen on its own,” Scott jammed his hands into his pockets and pushed off of the lockers, swaying idly at her side. “I guess I could… call a pack meeting?”

“You think Stiles is going to want to talk about how he wolfed out within minutes of getting the bite, killed four humans, and then hid in the woods for three days, in front of an audience?” Lydia’s skeptical eyebrow was beginning to rival Derek’s, and Scott didn’t know how he felt about that. Mostly pleased, probably. A little turned on. Hold on. _Stiles_. Right.

“Okay. So. Just the two of us, then,” Scott sighed, nodding.

“Three of us.”

“Right. That’s what I said. The three of us.”

“Good boy,” Lydia smiled, tugging him toward the chem lab. “Before we do that, though, I’m working on a new formula for salt spray, and I need your hands.”

“Salt spray… is that a… fairy thing?” Scott scrunched his nose.

“No. It’s a perfect hair thing. Now, come.”

 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest as the Sheriff threw a handful of mountain ash into the doorway, effectively sealing all three of them in Stiles’ bedroom. “Dad! What if I have to pee?”

The Sheriff leveled a hard look in his direction before mirroring his son’s closed-off pose. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that my son, the 18 year old werewolf, is plenty capable of holding it for an hour. But just in case, I imagine there’s probably been worse bodily fluids cleaned out of this room without my awareness before, so be responsible.” Scott stifled a snort. Lydia cringed, but stood strong.

“We’re sorry that this was necessary, Stiles,” she started carefully, trying to stick to the script in her head and not give in to the overwhelming need to touch his face, smooth back his hair, hold his hand.

“We just need to talk to you, dude.” Scott sat easily on the bed, curling up as if it was his own, and Lydia envied him those carefree years they’d spent as friends while she’d been climbing the social ladder.

“I don’t-” Stiles started before sitting down in his desk chair and staring at Lydia instead. “Fine. Okay, fine. What do you need, Lydia?”

“We need to make a plan for the weekend. You know, now-”

“That I’m a rage-filled killing machine? Yeah, aware. So you’re staying as far away from me as possible this weekend.” Stiles glared in Scott’s direction before adding, “Both of you.”

“I know you…” Scott faltered, and then slid off the bed to the floor, putting his head in his hands. “I know you didn’t want the bite, Stiles. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just…”

“No. No no no,” Stiles broke, flinging himself onto the carpet next to Scott. “I was dying. We had an agreement. You can’t feel bad for this, okay? You can’t. This is about me.”

“I should have found another way. Lydia screamed, and I just panicked and I-”

“Scott,” Stiles grabbed his hand, pulling it away from his face. “This is not your fault. You did what needed to be done. I’m not… I’m not mad at you.”

“Then who are you mad at?” Lydia sat carefully in front of them, forming a triangle with their knees. She took Scott’s hand in one of hers, Stiles’ in the other.

“I’m not-” Stiles huffed. “It’s not that I’m mad, necessarily. It’s just… there’s all this _something_ boiling under my skin, this aggression, and I don’t know what to do with it. I just want to…”

“To hurt someone?” Scott’s voice was quiet, his eyes plastered to the floor. “To break something?”

“Yeah. That’s… that’s it.”

“Do you remember when I first turned?” Lydia watched as the muscles in Scott’s jaw worked, as he squeezed Stiles’ hand gently before catching his eyes. “Do you remember how I… reacted, when faced with emotional triggers?”

He pointedly didn’t look at Lydia, their ill-advised makeout session long since water under the bridge.

“You were irritable. You made… strange decisions,” Stiles said diplomatically. He brought Lydia’s hand to his mouth absently, kissing the back of it before dropping it back into his lap.

“The bite makes everything feel so much stronger. That night, you were in danger, your pack was in danger, they’d hurt us. Lydia and I were so scared, Stiles. When you turned, your wolf took over, and that’s okay. It’s not a bad thing. You protected us.”

“I _killed_ people,” Stiles’ voice cracked and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “Four of them. With my hands and mouth. I didn’t show up to a lacrosse game I wasn’t supposed to go to, or kiss someone I shouldn’t have. Sorry Lydia. Sorry,” he flailed momentarily, letting go of both their hands to run his fingers through his hair. “I killed them. They were alive and then… just, not.”

“They would have killed you, Stiles.” Lydia pressed gently on his knee, forcing him to focus on her rather than the images no doubt seared into his brain. “They would have killed all of us, if they’d needed to, and you didn’t let that happen. I know it scared you, but it was good. It was _necessary_.”

“I would have done it,” Scott said softly, his eyes flashing red just briefly. “I _should_ have done it. It was my job to protect you and I failed. If we had a chance to go back, I would kill every one of them before they opened their mouths. It should have been me.”

“No.” Stiles sat up straight, pulling Scott in by the shoulders. “No, buddy. It’s better this way. If it needed to be done, then… then I’m glad I’m the one that did it.” He smiled, a small, pained thing, but the first Lydia had seen on his face in weeks. “It’s better that it was me.”

For a moment, the three of them sat unspeaking, lingering in the comforting weight of their combined wholeness, a complete feeling that only happened when they all came together.

“So. Full moon, huh?” Stiles finally broke the quiet, shooting Lydia a soft look. “What’s the plan?”

 

 

Stiles’ skin itched. His muscles throbbed with every pulse of blood through his veins. Every hair on his body stood on end. He was acutely aware of his entire body, even with the sun still high in the sky.

“How much longer?” he grunted, loading Lydia’s large suitcase into the back of the Jeep. Scott glanced at his phone, then at the sky.

“We’ve got about six hours until sundown. It’ll take two and a half for us to get to the lake house, and then another two hours or so before Lydia gets there. Which she says will be plenty of time for us to get the house ready, but I’ve never been there, so I don’t know what all we’ll need to do…”

“So we should get going now, is what you’re saying?” Stiles grinned, sliding his sunglasses off his head and onto his nose. He tossed the keys easily to Scott and slid into the empty passenger seat, tapping his fingers idly against the window.

“Stiles-” Scott cut himself off, turning sideways in the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and started again. “I know you feel strange. The moon is affecting you already, and that’s normal. But if you feel… wrong… at all, if anything feels wrong, or it hurts, or you just need something, you’ll tell me. Tell me first.”

“‘Course, buddy,” Stiles waved him off.

“No, Stiles, I’m serious - this is serious. Please tell me?” Scott’s overly earnest eyes made Stiles’ heart skip a beat and his stomach settle. Something about the combination of a face he’d known forever, grown to love as surely as he loved his own limbs, and the spirit he knew resided behind it, grounded him in ways he hadn’t expected. He nodded.

“I’ll tell you.”

The drive was long. Stiles liked long drives. Scott turned the music up too loud, to combat the whoosh of air rolling over the soft top, but Stiles didn’t mind. The overwhelming sensation of noise in his ears, smells in his nose, the awareness of Scott’s body just to his left, made the wolf under his skin quiet, made it content.

The lake house was in much better shape than Lydia had led them to believe, but Stiles was used to that; Lydia’s standards for cleanliness, organization, and the relative bearability of various living spaces were much higher than Scott’s, which made them skyscrapers above Stiles’. Together they spread sheets and blankets on the California king sized bed in the main bedroom, wiped down the countertops in the kitchen and bathroom with bleach wipes, turned on all the faucets to make sure the hot and cold water were both working. They plugged in the fridge, brought ice in from the cooler in the Jeep, unpacked all their bags. It was just supposed to be a long weekend, but Lydia had packed enough clothes for at least a week, which struck Stiles as especially funny, considering.

Considering.

Stiles’ skin felt too tight over his muscle and bones. He scratched idly at his biceps, hoping to soothe the uncomfortable stretch with his own fingers even as he ached for someone else’s.

“Hey, hey, buddy...feeling alright?” Scott asked, snapping in front of his face.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, what?” Stiles looked up, slackjawed.

“Hey,” Scott said soothingly, pressing his hands gently against Stiles’ arms where he’d been scratching. Only then did Stiles notice the sting, the burn. His arms were covered in deep gouges, and his blood painted Scott’s hands. “I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“I just… it… itches.” Stiles huffed, unsure of how to phrase the feeling thrumming inside his bones, the agony of needing to shift, to move, to rub up against someone until they both burst into flames.

Before Stiles could even recognize moving, Scott had him pinned against the wall, eyes flashing red. Scott knew. Scott always knew.

“I told you to tell me if anything felt wrong,” Scott growled, nosing his way toward Stiles’ throat. Stiles rubbed his face alongside Scott’s, sharing scent in the way that he’d seen Scott and Isaac do occasionally, the way he’d watched Scott rub himself all over Lydia in their shared bed.

“It’s not wrong,” Stiles started, “just… different. Feels different. Everything feels so _different_.”

“Everything?” Scott ran his nose along the shell of Stiles’ ear, making him shiver. Scott’s panted breath over his skin sent chills up his spine, and the barest touch of Scott’s lips had his legs spreading, twining around Scott’s in an effort to accommodate his Alpha.

“Feels more… intense?” Stiles panted, trying to catch his breath. Scott looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. He planted both hands on Stiles’ ass, gripping two handfuls of flesh. His hands were hot through the thin fabric of Stiles’ basketball shorts, old, worn-in things he wasn’t worried about ripping. The faint prickle of Scott’s claws sent a thrill up his spine, and Stiles arched into it, giving Scott access to the soft hollow of his throat.

“Up, up,” Scott grumbled against his skin, squeezing his ass with human hands. Stiles got the hint, wrapping his legs easily around Scott’s waist, but he scrabbled at his Alpha’s shoulders when they pulled away from the wall.

“Wait, wait, I’m not… dude, I’m not Lydia, you can’t just tote me ar-”

“I can’t?” Scott laughed, one hand smoothing up Stiles’ back under his t-shirt. He dragged his nails down Stiles’ spine, soft and easy, and Stiles fell pliant against him instantly.

“Well, you can, but you know, it’s kind of terrible for my ego.”

Scott pursed his lips and paused right there in the hallway. “Does it help your ego if I say that I picked you up because I needed to feel your body wrap around me, and having you like this makes me so _incredibly_ turned on?”

“Ahhhh, yeah. Yeah, that helps.” Stiles leaned down to place playful kisses all over Scott’s face. He nipped and licked at Scott’s full mouth, mouthing at his plush bottom lip and pulling it between his teeth. His hands caressed Scott’s jaw, moved down his neck to strong, broad shoulders, clinging. They’d always had this, the give-and-take, push-and-pull relationship where Stiles took the lead but Scott got things done. It felt good, resting in Scott’s arms, letting himself go without fear. He didn’t even notice his partial shift until Scott squirmed and laughed into his mouth.

“Wha-”

“Your claws. They tickle,” Scott nodded his head toward his own shoulder where Stiles’ clawed fingers were tracing delicate designs over the skin. Stiles reared back, flailing at the sight, but Scott caught him.

“It’s good,” Scott smiled, and started carrying him toward the bedroom. “I liked it.”

“But I just… and we were just… and then they…” Stiles floundered.

“Yep. That’s pretty much how it happens.” Scott laid Stiles back, gently, on the bed. He watched with dark eyes as Stiles pushed up on his elbows, legs still wrapped firmly around Scott’s waist. “You’re going to have to let me go if you want me to blow you.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped open the way it always did when Scott was especially forward. Even after months of being _them_ , _together_ , hearing Scott’s voice go rough and coarse made his skin prickle and his cock twitch.

“Stiles.” Scott unhooked himself from the catch of Stiles’ legs and rolled his eyes. “You online there buddy, or am I going to have to reboot you?”

“Oh, I’ll let you reboot me,” Stiles waggled his eyebrows before stopping and frowning. “That didn’t make sense did it?”

Scott shrugged. “It made about as much sense as you usually do.”

His hands were careful as he pulled the shorts down over Stiles’ hips, lips quirking at the lack of boxers underneath.

“Sexy lakehouse weekend to keep me from killing people, Scott! I don’t need underwear! I don’t even know why we packed clothes!” Stiles grumbled as he pulled his shirt off.

“Don’t you think you’ll get tired of sex eventually?” Scott asked, licking a line up the inside of Stiles’ thigh. His face was open, sweet and gentle as he nipped the skin there with blunt teeth, sending fire through Stiles’ groin.

“With you two? I’ll die first. Oh shit, Scott, _please_ -”

“Hold onto the headboard.” Scott nodded toward the wrought iron scrollwork at the head of the bed. “Don’t take your hands off of it, okay? I’ll heal if you scratch me, but you’ll feel bad if I start bleeding while your dick is in my mouth.”

Stiles barely had time to wrap his hands around the smooth metal before the scorching heat of Scott’s mouth surrounded his flesh. The itch under his skin seemed to still with his Alpha above him, licking long lines up his cock. Scott tongued at the head, familiar sensation taken to dizzying new heights with his werewolf senses in play. Scott’s scent drowned him, so comforting and warm, tinged with the hot tang of arousal. The feeling of his Alpha’s claws skating delicately along his iliac crest drove him wild, made him want to wiggle and thrust. His cock nudged at Scott’s throat and his whole body quivered under the onslaught of feeling. Scott’s head bobbed between his legs, gorgeous and competent, and Stiles wanted to see nothing else for days, and -

“Started without me, hm? Figures.” Lydia’s voice was light with laughter, but they both stilled like children with their hands in the cookie jar anyway. “That’s alright. Seems Stiles is in the perfect position anyway.”

“Uhhhh,” Stiles said intelligently, watching as she stripped efficiently out of her blouse and pulled her sleek thong out from under her plaid miniskirt.

“Mmmhmm,” Scott agreed, Stiles’ dick still heavy in his mouth. The vibration made Stiles jerk and twitch, hands flexing on the headboard.

“Oh no, can’t let go,” Lydia tutted, strolling casually to the bed. “That’s the game, right? He holds onto the headboard, we rock his world?”

Scott pulled off just long enough to say, “Something like that,” and then delved back in, swirling his tongue around Stiles’ balls with tender attention.

“Oh no. That won’t do at all.” Lydia gestured easily toward the claws digging into the meat of Stiles’ palms, the fangs curling over his lips. “If I’m going to ride your mouth, I need it to be completely human, Stiles.”

“Ummmm,” he slurred around his too-thick tongue.

“Focus. Find your control. What’s your anchor?”

“I - I don’t -”

Scott pulled up and off, running the tip of his nose along the inside of Stiles’ thigh. “Reach out with your senses. Find us. We’ll help anchor you until you can do it yourself.”

Stiles closed his eyes and listened, ears filling with the cacophony of three racing heartbeats, Lydia’s slow breathing, a soft, wet squelching sound he knew but couldn’t place. His nose filled up with the scent of mates, of his Alpha and his Fae queen, best friend and beloved, home and away. Together they blended into a scent that sparked color behind his eyelids, made his stomach clench and relax over and over, fluttering with butterflies even after months of intimacy. He could practically taste them on the air, the heavy presence of Lydia’s arousal, the lube Scott always used to prepare himself, the sharp tang of his own come slicking the head of his cock.

“That’s better,” Lydia crooned, dragging her nails gently down the side of his face. Stiles breathed in deep, rolling his face into her palm and scenting her wrist where the skin was thin and sheer magic flowed beneath it. “Are you ready Scott?”

“Almost,” Scott grunted, the slick, wet sound of his prep coalescing into a mental image that made Stiles groan. “Yeah, yeah, ready.”

Scott shuffled forward, bracketing Stiles’ hips with his knees and resting his hands on Stiles’ chest. Stiles opened his eyes in time to see Lydia kiss him, hungry and needy, hands in his hair. Scott groaned into her mouth even as he lined himself up, one shaky hand wrapped around Stiles’ cock.

“Ready, Alpha?” Lydia smiled against his mouth. “I really want to see you take him. Fuck him until we’re all he can think of. Do you want that?”

“Nnngh-yeah,” Scott nodded, hovering just over Stiles’ hips, the head of Stiles’ cock pressed against his hole.

“Let me get that for you then.” Lydia replaced Scott’s hand with one of her own, and used the other to slowly guide his hips down. Stiles fought the urge to thrust up and into the hot clutch of Scott’s body, stilled by the hot hands of his Alpha on his stomach. The slow drag of Scott sinking onto his cock made his eyes roll back, and claws tingled at the tips of his fingers.

“Stiles,” Lydia demanded. “Focus. Watch us.”

He looked up, forcing his wet-bright eyes open to take in the image of Scott’s hips rolling in smooth circles on his own, Lydia’s delicate hand wrapped easily around Scott’s cock, Scott’s face pressed into the crook of her neck as he took deep, shuddering breaths.

“That’s right, Alpha,” Lydia petted through his hair, soothing him down. “Always take it so well, don’t you? Doesn’t he Stiles? Tell Scott how good he is.”

“Amazing,” Stiles bit out. “The best. Fuck, Scotty, you’re -”

“That’s good,” Lydia interrupted, tracing pink lacquered nails around the shell of Scott’s ear. “Not too much, it’ll end before I’m done.” She giggled and nuzzled her face into Scott’s, nipping playfully at his neck. “Scotty likes it too much when we tell him how much we appreciate him.”

“Ungh, Lydia,” Scott warned as Lydia continued to work his cock, hand stroking slow and smooth as silk. “Please, just -”

“What is it, Alpha?”

“Kiss me? Need you both to -”

“Stiles too?” When Scott nodded, Lydia turned her searching gaze on Stiles, quirking her head before nodding. “Sit up. Hands behind your back, keep hold of the headboard.”

Together they moved up the bed, Scott shuffling along with Stiles’ hips until they were face to face. Lydia put one arm around Stiles’ shoulders and slipped the other around Scott’s waist, pressing the three of them tightly together in a crush of skin.

“Is it better?” Stiles asked, breathless as Scott bounced unsteadily in his lap.

“Almost,” Scott smiled, quick and blinding, before pressing their mouths together, soft and sweet. “Better,” he teased, pressing the words into Stiles’ lips.

“Best,” Stiles agreed, hips rutting up in short, desperate thrusts as the curl of Lydia’s fingers found his nape, the heat of Scott’s body spread through his own.

“That’s right,” Lydia encouraged, kissing a shoulder here, a span of neck there. “So good, you both look amazing. You’re holding on so well, Stiles.”

“I’m - huh?” Stiles blinked, hips still moving in time with Scott’s.

“No fangs,” Scott grinned, and arched his back into the next thrust, rubbing his leaking cock up the expanse of Stiles’ abdomen. They both shuddered, the perfect press of their bodies together overwhelming to the senses. Stiles could taste the hot red sound of Scott’s labored breathing, senses blending together in a whirl of pleasure and love.

“Eyes?” he demanded, blinking sweat away and clenching tighter to the headboard irons with human fists.

“Brown,” Scott assured.

“Whiskey, amber, almost hazel but not quite,” Lydia corrected, rubbing gently through Stiles’ hair, pushing it off his sweaty forehead. “You’re in control, Stiles. You have the reins.”

Stiles let go of the headboard and gripped hard to Scott’s hips, thrusting up into him with fast, hard pushes of hips. Lydia’s hand worked between them, and within seconds Scott was spilling over them both, filling the room with his scent, overwhelming and _good_. Scott clenched hard as he came, body doubling over to rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. His quick unraveling, the tight hold of him on Stiles’ cock, the smell of his Alpha falling apart pushed Stiles over the edge with him. His hips stuttered up, filling Scott with his scent, and the hum of the wolf in his skin quieted to barely a whisper.

“Gorgeous,” Lydia said, hushed. She traced patterns delicately into their overheated skin, waiting for them both to come down from the high places and join the rest of the world.

“That was…” Stiles trailed off, unsure exactly what to call the religious experience that was Scott’s body and Lydia’s brain and his own overpowering senses.

“Really, really good,” Scott finished, nodding.

“Amazing,” Stiles one-upped him, wriggling in Scott’s warm embrace.

“Just the beginning,” Lydia hummed, pleased. “How long do you think you’ll need to be back in the game, Stiles?”

“Uh… fifteen minutes probably?” Stiles laughed, wide-eyed. “Why?”

“Now that I’m sure you can keep your teeth to yourself, I have plans for Scott’s dick and your mouth.” She examined her manicure with a sort of distant glee. “At the same time, obviously.”

Stiles groaned, sinking further into the safe haven of Scott’s arms. “Of course you do.”

“To be fair,” Scott grinned, nosing against Stiles’ neck, “It _is_ a Sexy Lakehouse Weekend to keep you from killing people. It’d probably be stranger if she didn’t.”

Lydia leaned heavily against them, sighing dramatically. “We do what we must, after all.”

Stiles smiled, head clear and heart full. He pulled them both closer, comforted by their closeness and their scents, surrounding himself in the sweetness of their joining. “We do, don’t we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblt.com).


End file.
